Or Maybe Not
by MegStar96
Summary: The second part of the Tom Riddle Saga. Sorry for this, guys. Just some fluff. I wrote it in the middle of the night, and I'm not sure why.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, super-cool party people! Now, this is just some random craziness. I like when there are stories where the authors get to meet the characters - it's just fun! So, yeah, I don't any rights to Harry Potter or any related characters. Or Frank Dillane. Or Lady Gaga. If you thought I did, you were sadly mistaken. So, yeah, this story features - the one and only -ME! Read on!**

I was sitting at my computer, on my bed, clacking away once more at my stories. I had just finished a rather dramatic chapter of Mine Alone, and I was feeling rather pleased with myself.

After I was done typing, I slammed the laptop shut and contentedly kicked up my feet, admiring the tasteful contrast between my dark-wash skinny jeans and my über glam purple suede high heels.

I had closed my eyes and was just about to nod off when I heard someone clear their throat from over by my reading chair.

"What the-" I tumbled off the bed in shock, alarmed that I hadn't heard the door open. I looked up at the intruder, wearing one of my patented death glares, and saw someone I didn't know (though that someone _was _alarmingly familiar). A very tall, somewhat handsome, alarmingly pale teenage boy with blue eyes that glared coldly back at me.

"Okay," I said, growing more panicked by the second, "who are you, and what are you doing in my room?"

"Tom Riddle," the boy replied with - you guessed it - a British accent, "and I'd like to discuss some certain 'fan fiction' stories you've been writing about me."

Oh, crap. He looked angry. You know, somehow I just knew that this whole fanfic thing was going come back to bite me.

"All right," my more logical side replied, "if you really _are_ Tom Riddle, you won't mind answering a few questions." He quirked an eyebrow. "First - what's your middle name?"

"Marvolo."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Excellent! If he was just some crazed Tom Riddle impersonator, the next one would trip him up for sure.

"How many horcrux do you have?"

"Two." He didn't even bat an eyelash. Grrr.

"Show me a spell." He looked amused. "That isn't one of the Unforgivable Curses!" I added quickly. He sighed, then took a wand (twig?) from somewhere inside his robes. He then proceeded to flick it lazily at my mp3 player, causing Lady Gaga's 'Bad Romance' to start emanating from somewhere inside my… kidney? What? Oh, well - bonus points for creativity. Then it struck me that he was the real deal.

By that time, I was close enough to get a good look at him. He was pretty tall, but so was I. In the shoes I was wearing, I was almost as tall as him.

"You sure do look awfully similar to Frank Dillane," I remarked off-handedly upon further inspection.

"Who?"

"Never mind. You wanted to talk about my stories?"

"Yes," he replied, and I noticed he sounded a bit beat. Inter-universal travel can't be an easy feet, especially when you've eaten nothing but, ugh, _school food_ for the past, what, seven years?

"You wanna sit down?"

"No I was planning on standing right here for the next three hours," he said with a sarcastic eye roll.

"Man, I really pegged your personality in the story," I said excitedly, ushering him into my cluttered living room.

"About that…" He left off, and I gestured for him to continue. "The character is completely un-lifelike!" he cried out in frustration.

"How so?" I inquired pleasantly, sipping a glass of iced tea. Most people would be rather affronted by Tom's bluntness. Those people have never met my friend Riley. Besides, when you write about someone so frequently, you get used to there personality quirks. Tom tugged the ends of his dark locks of hair in annoyance before continuing.

"I fall in LOVE? Have you completely forgotten the fact that I'm a murderous sociopath with no heart? Or that I'm evil?" Yeesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the chamber this morning. I smiled.

"Listen, Riddle, no one's that evil without something happening to cause such inward evilness. 'Mine Alone' is just my theory on how that might have happened. I'm sure if you really did meet the right person-"

"You made her a half-blood!" he interrupted rudely.

"You **are** a half-blood," I countered skillfully. Thank you, debate team.

Tom crossed his arms. "I hate half-bloods."

"Oh, yeah," I replied, "that's gets explained later, like at the end of the second story."

"_Second_?" he gaped. "There's going to be another one?"

"Two more," I grinned, enjoying his reaction. "Three, if you count this one."

"What do you mean, '_this one?'" _he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Well, we're in one right now, of course. Watch!"

_Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a tuba, which he began to play soulfully._

"What's that?" I laughed. "The Blue Danube Waltz?" I tapped my feet, finding the whole situation amusing beyond words.

Tom growled and pried his lips from the instrument, exclaiming, "What the _bloody __**hell**_is going on here? This is mad. Let me talk to Meg." Rude much? Maybe he doesn't enjoy the tuba, I thought to myself.

"Ah, now that might be a problem because… I'm her." I braced myself.

"**WHAT?"**

He examined me more closely. "I hardly recognized you, with the clothes, and those gaudy red stripes in your hair…" _Well, pardon me for not _actually _living in the 1940s. _"And you're so _tall._" I gestured at the heels. "But it really IS you."

"Hello, Tom, love," I said, smiling and using my British voice. Switching back to my native accent, I added, "Thanks for those half-blood comments earlier, by the way." I was just bating him. It worked.

"Oh, love," he said, pulling me into a big hug. "I'm sorry. I don't what possessed me."

"Oh, I know," I smiled. "I had to make you annoying so that the plot line would work."

**But, wait, there's more!**


	2. Chapter 2

And then, I woke up. I glanced down at the empty Monster can and the bag of Funions lying next to the comfy reading chair I had fallen asleep in. I shook my head.

_I really need to stop spending three hours on before going to bed._

_**THE END**_


End file.
